


Pressure and Ache

by wierdrocks



Category: Doom Patrol (TV)
Genre: Complete, Conversations, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Porn with Feelings, This Used To Be A One Shot, Touch-Starved, sex therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-03-08 07:50:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18890317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wierdrocks/pseuds/wierdrocks
Summary: Larry's touch-starved, Cliff's touch-starved. Sometimes they get together and pretend they can do anything about it.





	1. Chapter 1

This isn't the first time they've done this, but every time Cliff thinks it'll be the last. Larry will realize he's fucking some ugly hunk of metal and call everything off. Larry thinks it'll be the last too, that Cliff will get tired of his neediness, will realize he isn't getting anything out of this arrangement, and stop coming to Larry's room every few nights. And every time Cliff comes to his room, and Larry lets him in, they both let out a tiny sigh of relief. They're perfect for each other in that way. The idiots.

Cliff sits down on Larry's bed and watches Larry shoulder off his coat. It had taken him weeks to reach the point where he could shed that layer. He takes his own jacket off and tosses it on a chair. Larry climbs into his lap and puts his bandaged hands on his shoulders. 

"Hi," Cliff says quietly. 

"Hi," Larry sighs and Cliff imagines the puff of warm air that comes through the wrappings over his mouth. He closes his eyes and tries to remember what the warmth of another human being feels like. When he opens his eyes it's because Larry has groaned close to his face. Larry is pressing his lips to Cliff's, one of his hands sliding up Cliff's neck, the other down his chest. Cliff's hands are on Larry's hips; Larry rocks his hips into Cliff's torso. He moans, voice shaky, and presses his lips to different places on Cliff's head.

"Fuck," Cliff sighs even though he doesn't breathe. "You're beautiful, you know that?" 

"Shut up," Larry says, mostly as a joke. "You okay? This good?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm good. Talk to me." Cliff slides his hands up Larry's back. He can't feel the texture of the turtleneck, but he can tell when his fingers rise and fall with the ridges of Larry's burn scars.

"You feel so good, Cliff," Larry sighs. He's still "kissing" Cliff, driven to show affection even if Cliff can't quite experience it. "Your hands are... heavy? I guess."  
Cliff laughs. "No kiddin'."

"No, I mean... shit, I still suck at this."

"Keep going," Cliff moves one hand downward and squeezes Larry's ass. Larry groans.

"Your hands are so heavy, and you're so strong. I love the way you touch me," Larry pants. "It's perfect, Cliff," he grinds down on the rough edge of Cliff's belly. His cock is straining against his pants, a dark spot forming where he's leaking pre like a sieve. Cliff moans in the very back of his throat.

"Oh yeah, that's the good stuff," he says by way of a joke, but Larry seems to take him seriously.

"Fuck, fuck, Cliff. I'm just so goddamn glad I found someone like you--puts up with my bullshit, can stand to look at me, and touches me the way you do. Can't fucking imagine what I did to deserve you," he rocks up especially high and on Cliff's torso and the fabric of his pants catches on a stray bolt. Neither of them notice at first.

"Lar, I," Cliff isn't sure what to say. He gropes Larry's ass hard and pulls him a little closer to him. 

"And your voice," Larry wraps his arms around Cliff's neck, his mouth right next to where Cliff's ear would be. It is a little bit louder, the sound closer, but Cliff isn't a hundred percent sure how his hearing works anymore. "It's so _fucking_ sexy, Cliff. I could listen to you talk all goddamn day." He rolls his hips against Cliff and they both hear the tearing sound. When Larry pulls away, the front of his pants stays with Cliff's half-bare belly, revealing the straining bulge of his cock peeking through his y-fronts.  
Cliff's first instinct is to groan quietly and reach a hand toward Larry's crotch. Larry's first instinct is to scramble off of the bed and turn toward the metal wall, swearing under his breath.

"Larry?" Cliff lurches off the bed and walks over to him slowly, hand outstretched. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Larry says over his shoulder. "I—we ripped my pants."

"Okay, well take ‘em off," Cliff shrugs. "It's not like the radition'll hurt me, right?"

"No, Cliff, you don't— just go," Larry shakes his head.

"Or we'll get you a new pair," Cliff slides open a drawer on the dresser, finds neat rows of bottoms. Honestly, he'd expected a dozen of the same black pants. Instead, there are slacks in all kind of colors and fabrics. Cliff runs his squared fingers over a pair of tan corduroys. He thinks he remembers what the ridged fabric felt like.

"Why don't you ever wear these?"

"Cliff, get outta my clothes," Larry leans his forehead against the wall.

"Well I feel bad," he lifts the corduroys out of the drawer. "You wear those pants all the time, and I ruined them."

"It's fine. I can sew," Larry sighs. He looks at Cliff sideways. "Those don't fit anymore."

"Oh," Cliff looks down at the pants for a moment, then back up at Larry. "I didn't know you could sew!"

"Yeah," he sighs again. Sheryl had taught him; the boys would skin the knees right off their pants playing in the yard. He’d needed to help her. One of the only things he ever did right...

His chest glows blue for a moment and Larry reaches up to touch the light with his fingertips. 

"I know, I know," he sighed. 

"Know what?" Cliff was folding the pants back up.

"Wasn't talking to you," Larry shakes his head. "The spirit... he's reminding me not to get too deep into self-loathing," he presses his hand a little harder against his chest. 

"Oh," Cliff said quietly. "I'm glad you two are getting along better."

"Yeah, me too.

There's a long pause. Cliff puts the pants back in the drawer and slides it closed. He thinks he might ask why Larry wanted to keep them, but he supposes they were a keepsake. All Larry’s clothes looked really old fashioned, like they were from his old life. Cliff doesn’t want to make him give those things up. _He’s_ the one with a tiny slot car town in his room.

He looks at Larry again. He’s still leaning against the wall, facing away from Cliff. 

"Can I tell you something?" Cliff asks, dismissing the quiet.

"What?" Larry didn't look at him.

"Wanna suck your cock."

" _What_?" He cocks his head to one side.

"I know I can't, but I want to. Wanna feel it on my tongue. God, I wish I had a tongue. Could lick your—"

"Cliff, shut up."

"Sorry," Cliff flexes his hands for lack of anything else to do. He wants to reach out to Larry, hold him. "It's not like you can hurt me," he wraps his fist against his chest for affect, a hollow metal sound filling the space between them. "It's okay."

Larry looks at him over his shoulder. 

"Or maybe not," Cliff shrugged. "You want me to go, just say so." Larry didn't say anything, just kept looking at him. "Or you could uh..." he moved his hand in an unmistakable motion. Larry kept looking at him. Cliff shrugged again. 

"Wh—what?"

Cliff steps a little closer. "Can I hold you?" He puts a hand on the small of Larry's back.  
"I—you don't understand, Cliff. I've got—I've got these scars." Larry hunches over, hiding himself. 

Cliff wanted to laugh. "What? What do I care what you look like? You seen me?"

"You said I was beautiful," Larry says quietly. 

"You are beautiful," he strokes that bit of Larry's back. "But if you don't want me to look, I won't look."

"I..." there's another long pause, and then Larry nods once. "Okay." Cliff wrapped his arms around his lover's waist. He keeps his eyes closed.

"Wanna listen to you jack off," Cliff wants it to sound more romantic than it does. He nuzzles his face against Larry's. "Can I hear you? Please?" He slides his hands across Larry's belly, inching toward his waistband. He stops just short of where Larry's bellybutton would be, not wanting to press.

"I..." Larry's hands are shaking, only slightly. 

"I would just really like it," Cliff rolls his hips against Larry's, grasping at the wisp of a memory, imagining what it would feel like to be grinding his hardon against the perfect swell of the other man's ass. "But you don't have to. I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to. We can just," he hugs him a little closer. "Cuddle standing."

Larry chuckles. "Okay. I um... there's lube in... in the drawer."

Cliff turns his head before he opens his eyes, and then clanks over to Larry's nightstand. In the drawer, there's a half empty bottle of lube and a pinup magazine. Cliff doesn't want to look, but he does anyway. The men in the magazine are... well, they look like Cliff, actually. Or how he used to... heavy set, thick, a little hairy. He glances back at Larry and finds him standing with his forehead against the wall again. He's probably trying to talk himself out of doing this. Cliff slides the drawer closed quickly and resumes his position behind Larry. He presses the bottle blindly into Larry's hand. 

"Thanks," Larry says and takes a deep breath. He flips the cap up on the bottle and goes to pour some onto his fingers. The bandages make him pause. He usually doesn't jack off with them on. He thinks the lube will soak into them, or that they'll chafe his dick. He sighs, annoyed.

"Everything okay?" Cliff pats his belly encouragingly.

"Yeah... yeah, just gimme a second," Larry tugs at the bandages on his right hand until they unfurl and drop into a pile at his feet. He sighs again and pours a generous amount of lube onto his hand, warming it on his fingers.

"Thank you," Cliff whispers. Larry barely hears it. He closes his eyes behind his goggles and wraps a hand around his cock. 

"Fuck," he sighs deeply as he begins to work himself. He doesn't usually take his time with this, chasing his release as quickly as possible. The texture of his own skin, the memory of who last did this with him, it's too... he shakes his head, not wanting to upset the spirit again. 

He moves slowly, squeezing his shaft gently and running his thumb over the head of his cock. The mottled flesh is at once over sensitive and dull. He rubs his thumb in tiny circles over one side of his head. He lets himself sigh and groan at the sensations, and hears Cliff sigh along with him. He imagines the feeling of Cliff's breath against his neck and shoulder. Cliff rubs little circles into his belly, just above his cock. 

Larry pauses for a moment and then takes Cliff's hand with his free one. He has every intention of just holding Cliff's hand, grounding himself in the familiar feeling of plates and rivets. Instead, he's reminded of the tantalizing feeling of those heavy hands on his skin. And instead, he picks up Cliff's hand and moves it slowly to cup his balls. 

"That what I think it is?" Cliff asks, his voice teasing the edge of humor.

"Yeah," Larry sighs and starts stroking himself again. "Be gentle. But don't."

"Not sure what that means," Cliff squeezes cautiously. There's barely any pressure. Cliff doesn't want to risk hurting him. Larry groans in the back of his throat. 

"Like that. Just like that," he squeezes his shaft and starts pistoning his hips forward ever so slightly, at once fucking his fist and grinding himself down into Cliff's hand. He relishes in the hard edges and sharp angles. 

"Yeah, fuck," Larry moans loudly. "Cliff, sweetheart, you feel so good. So fucking good."

"Mm," Cliff moans, cants his hips into Larry's ass. "Like it when you call me sweetheart." It feels intimate in a way that’s just a little past ‘fuckbuddies’. 

"Baby," Larry's voice shakes behind his bandages. He's too hot, has too many goddamn layers on, even without the coat. The spirit sparks in his chest and Larry, somehow, knows exactly what he's trying to say. But Larry isn't ready, doesn't know if he'll ever be ready. He looks up at the ceiling, lets his head fall back against Cliff's shoulders.

"Yeah," Cliff sighs. "That's it, Lar. Let yourself feel good." He lets out a little moan even though he isn't feeling any of this; he bucks his hips against Larry again. "Fuck, first thing I'm gonna do when we get the Chief back is ask for some upgrades. Maybe even just swing for a strap-on. Wanna fuck you so bad, Lar, give it to you however you want." he presses his hips forward again and holds them there, letting Larry grind and hump against his fingers. Larry's own hand is still working his cock, his pace swinging between gentle and languid, and something akin to a jack hammer. 

"Keep talking," Larry chokes out. "Fuck, Cliff, I'm almost there."

"Me too, baby," Cliff moans and shifts his stance so Larry is leaning farther back against him. Larry lets himself fall, be leaned back so his whole weight is being supported by Cliff's massive form. He's so fucking touch starved, even with their rendezvouses, even with the way he’s been letting himself open up more to the team. He lets out a long, low moan at the sensation of more and more of his back being pressed against Cliff. And Cliff keeps talking:

"You know you deserve it, don't you? To feel good, get taken care of, get whatever the fuck you want. And I wanna give it to you so bad, baby." He squeezes gingerly at Larry's balls and the other man lets out a broken noise. He spills across his bare fingers, his breathing hitching and ragged. Cliff quiets behind him, nuzzling against his neck. 

"Cliff," Larry says quietly. He leans forward, getting back onto his feet. He turns in Cliff's embrace, wrapping his arms around his lover's neck. He hasn't given much thought to what the two of them "are" yet, mostly because it scares the crap out of him, but the label feels right in the moment. Lover. 

"Tell me what you need," Larry breathes, pressing his mouth the Cliff's. One good thing about the bandages is he can speak into the kiss and still be understood. "You said you were close. Tell me what you need."

"I, uh, felt like I was." Cliff's eyes are closed. He doesn't want to accidentally catch a glimpse of anything Larry doesn't want him to. That means, though, that he can only tell that Larry is in his arms because he understands where his own arms are in relation to the rest of him. Curse this fucking body. 

"Not anymore?" Larry sounds mournful. "Cliff, look at me." Cliff opens his eyes. He lets out a tint noise, like a gasp at seeing how close Larry is to him. "Can I get you back there? I want—I want to make you feel good, _sweetheart_ ," he emphasizes that last word, hoping it triggers something in Cliff. 

"No, I—I can't get off," he likes to think he's come to terms with it, but the frustration is evident in his voice. "I don't know if I ever could in this hunk a junk." He holds Larry a little closer. "But I like this—getting you off, making you feel good. I don't wanna stop."

"I don't want to stop either," Larry leans back a little, just so he can see Cliff better. "I'm sorry I freaked out before. I'm just—I'm not ready." His chest sparks blue for a moment. "I know. I know _logically_ that you wouldn't... judge me for my appearance. But... no one's seen me without the bandages in over a decade."

"It's okay, baby," Cliff strokes a hand down his back. "Take your time. I really don't mind, I just wanted to make sure you knew that I wouldn't... not that I wouldn't care what you look like... I'd care a lot! I'd love to see your pretty face." He tilts his head to one side, trying to convey a smile. Larry chuckles. 

"I know, sweetheart. I just need some time."

"Take as much as you need," Cliff says and the two of them ease into a comfortable silence for a little bit. Larry leans his head on Cliff's shoulder, nuzzling him affectionately, bathing in what's left of the afterglow. 

"Hey Larry," Cliff says after a couple minutes or so. Larry hums in response. "You're gettin' jizz all over my shirt." 

"Fuck!" Larry pulls his sticky hand away from Cliff, apologizes twice. Cliff bellows out a laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lol i said it would be a one shot

Cliff is beyond embarrassed to be walking into the sex shop one town over from Cloverton. Because of course _Cloverton_ doesn't have anything like this in it! And besides, no one in the next town over blames him for everyone getting swallowed by a fucking hole in the fucking ground. So that's one upside of driving the bus a few miles away. He knows he could probably order what he needs on the internet, but Facehole had been difficult enough to figure out, and the idea of asking for help with online dildo shopping makes his skin crawl. Or it would, if he still had... Cliff shakes his head and steels himself. The little bell above the door almost makes him jump. The clerk behind the counter is writing something in a three-ring binder. She looks up briefly.

"Let me know if you need anything!" She goes back to her binder and then looks back up at him slowly.

"Hi," he waves awkwardly. "Um, actually..." he walks up to the counter, watching the way her face changes at seeing him move. She seems more curious than afraid, so he comes all the way up to the counter. It’s one of those elevated ones, so she’s looking down at him. "I... I'm looking for a strap on? I've never bought one before and uh..." he sort of gestures with his shoulders. 

"Okay," she nods once and hops off her stool. "I'm sure we can find something for you." She leads him further into the shop. More toward the back, there’s a whole wall of different dildos and accessories. "Is this for you or your partner?" 

"For me," he says. That seems to make her pause. 

"Hm," she reaches into the pocket of her hoodies and withdraws a fabric tape measure. "Just need to see how wide your waist is." She says it like she’s asking permission.

"Oh, yeah, sure," he nods and steps a little closer. 

She wraps the tape measure around him and hums again. "Okay, yeah. You are gonna need an extender, but they're half off when you buy the harness same time. Did you also want the toy today?"

"Yeah," he says. She’d gotten really comfortable with him really quick. Cliff figures she’s probably used to people being embarrassed or awkward in the shop, and needing to make them feel at ease. She hands him the largest harness in the shop, and the extender, then turns back to the wall of toys.

"I always recommend this one to beginners." She takes a flesh-colored one off the shelf. "It's firm, but flexible, and a pretty average size."

"That sounds good," Cliff nods. "But um... does it come in a different color?" Something about the fleshy shade is really off-putting. It does, in fact, come in a bright purple. Before he checks out, she uses the store model to show him how to attached the extender and the toy, and gives him a website with a video in case the instruction booklet is too difficult to parse. 

There’s a little book shop next door to the sex shop; they were having a sale on LGBT books, as well as pins and patches. Cliff had completely forgotten it was June—Pride Month! He steps into the store thinking he should get a pin or something for Larry; a little one he could pin to the inside of his coat. The person behind the counter is probably a teenager. They smile at him when he comes inside.

"Let me know if you need anything," they say and for a moment Cliff is stunned. This is the second random shop clerk to just... treat him like a person. And this person hadn’t even done the little double take! It is a little disorienting if he was being honest. 

"Uh... thanks," he says and they smile again before turning back to their phone. Cliff surveys the display table and cards his fingers through a plate piled high with different-colored pins. He finds one he thinks would be perfect for Larry—a little airplane flying over a rainbow! Carefully, he pinches it between his fingers, and slowly, he tries to bring it up to the palm of his other hand. At the last possible moment, though, the enamel pin slips from his grasp and drops back down to the plate. Cliff makes a frustrated noise and reaches for it again way too fast. The plate tips and clatters to the ground, spilling pins across the shop's rough wood floors.

"Damn it!" Cliff grunts under his breath.

"Uh oh!" The Clerk hops off their stool behind the counter and rushes over to help him.

"I'm sorry--I, oh man, I'm sorry," he stoops to try and scoop some up but the pins were too little and too flat, he couldn't get purchase on them. He settles for grabbing the plate and holding it out for the clerk to dump handfuls of puns onto.

"Oh no, you're fine," they say and somehow it feels like they're not just being nice. 

"Did you find one you liked?" They asks after cleanup is done. Cliff could read their nametag now: Rowen.

"Uh, yeah, the little airplane one," Cliff says bashfully. Rowen plucks the right pin from the plate and places it carefully in the center of Cliff's palm.

"Anything else?" They smile bright and honest. Cliff actually thinks about it for a moment instead of just automatically saying 'no' as to not inconvenience them.

"Um, well," he looks over at the patches. They’re displayed on a tiered rack of little plastic boxes. He would probably smash the whole thing to bits if he even tried sorting through them. And besides, he didn't know... "Do you, uh, can you tell me which one is for bi?" He points to the patches.   
"Sure! We've got a couple choices," Rowen whirls toward the display and grabs three patches, all with a blue, pink, and purple color scheme. They hold them out and Cliff chooses one in the shape of an anatomical heart. It’s kind of funny, since he doesn’t have one. 

He thanks Rowen twice for the help and puts five bucks in the tip jar on the counter. 

"It's no problem at all," they say. "Happy Pride month." 

*

When he gets back to the house, he stashes the bag from the sex shop in his room and went to find Larry in the greenhouse. He’s talking softly to his orchids while he waters them. 

"Hey baby," Cliff says. It’s the first time he's said that outside of Larry's bedroom, but Larry doesn't say anything about it. 

"Hey," he says over his shoulder. "Rita said you went into town? How'd that go?" He sounds incredulous.

"It went great! I got something for you." He reaches into his jacket pocket and takes out the box Rowena had wrapped the pin in. It’s a lot easier to handle than the tiny pin itself. 

"What?" Larry sets his watering can down. Cliff hands it to him. 

"Yeah, I just saw it in a shop. I thought you'd like it. And, you know, it's Pride Month." He shrugs. Larry has the box open by the time Cliff is finished talking, and he stares down at it silently.

"You don't have to wear it," Cliff says quickly. "I just... uh, I just thought you'd like it. I got one for me too... I just thought it'd be nice. You really don't have to wear it." He weaves his fingers together nervously. Larry looks at the pin for a little while longer. Cliff keeps talking; it’s like he can’t stop it.

"And, you know, I figured uh," he slides a hand gingerly beneath Larry's coat, fingertips grazing the spot above his heart. "You could put it on the inside of your jacket, if you wanted."

"Oh," Larry says softly. "Yeah... I'll think about it."

"Okay," Cliff nods. He stands there for a moment, trying in vain to read an expression on Larry's bandages. "Well, I'll let you get back to your flowers." He turns on his heel and clanks out of the greenhouse. In the house, he goes to find Jane. She’s in her room, music blasting loudly. He knocks as loudly as he could without hurting the door. His fist still leaves marks. 

"Hey, Jane? Jane? Can you help me with something?" He calls through the door. She responds by turning the music up even louder. "Okay! Don't hurt your ears!" He marches back down the hallway to the sitting room. He finds Rita knitting. 

"How was your trip to town?" She asks. "Wreak any good mayhem?"

"No," he says, a little proud. "I got myself something... and I was wondering, do you know how to iron patches? I was gonna ask Jane, but she was busy."

Rita looks up at him. "I suspect you iron them on," she says.

"Wow thanks," Cliff sighs. "I never would've figured that out." 

"Glad I could help," Rita doesn’t even try to hide the way she rolls her eyes. Cliff clanks down to the laundry room. He finds Vic waiting for a load to dry. 

"Hey," he says. "You went into down by yourself?"

"Yes, and I didn't break anything," Cliff says. "And frankly, I'm starting to feel a distinct lack of trust in this household." The ironing board is attached to the wall by a set of hinges, and there’s an industrial-style sink in one corner where he could fill the iron. 

"Sorry," Vic's shoulders droop. "I just worry, I guess. Seems like every time we even try to run an errand something bad happens." He is sitting on the washer in just a pair of jeans. Cliff almost never sees him without a hoodie on. He’s glad Vic is more comfortable just... existing around the house. 

"Yeah, I get that," Cliff nods and shuts the water off. "Thanks for the concern, I guess."

"No problem," Vic nods back. "What're you doing?" 

Cliff takes his patch out of his pocket and then drapes his jacket over the ironing board. "I wanna put this one my jacket." He holds it out. Vic takes the patch and turns it over in his hands. 

"I didn't know you were bi."

"It's kind of a new development." Cliff shrugs. He expects Vic to hand the patch back but instead he looks up at him with a soft expression on his face. 

"Congratulations," he says. "I've actually been kind of thinking about coming out to the group. I thought it would make Larry feel more comfortable."

"Well, you shouldn't just come out for Larry," Cliff says. Vic nods. 

"I guess it wouldn't _just_ be for him. You're gonna need wax paper if you wanna put this on there." He says. "There's some in the kitchen. I'll go get it—and, you don’t need the steam." He hands the patch back. Cliff dumps out the iron. Vic returns after a little while with a roll of wax paper, some scissors, and two dry dish rags. He has Cliff slide the dishrag into the jacket sleeve, right under where he wants the patch, on the shoulder. Vic carefully cuts the wax paper in the shape of the heart. By the time he’s done the iron is hot enough.

"As what?" Cliff asks as he adjusts the jacket so it wouldn't fall off the board. Vic looks at him strangely. "Come out as what? I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't wanna."

Vic chuckles. "No, it's fine. As pan. I'm mostly into women, I think, but I don't really think about people's genders when I'm attracted to them."

"Pan?" Cliff cocks his head to one side.

"It's like bi, but different," Vic shrugs. "You want it like here?" He puts the patch face up on the jacket shoulder. Cliff hums affirmatively. Vic covers it with the wax paper and the second dish rag, then Cliff presses the iron to the patch.

"Grid, set a timer for forty seconds," Vic says and the AI responds immediately. "This thing’s pretty cool. Where'd you get it?"

"Book shop the next town over. They had all kinds. Is there a pan flag?"

"Yeah, it's pink, yellow, and blue. Maybe I'll swing by, get myself something. Or we could all go, have lunch someplace. It could be a team building exercise."

"And I know Jane's getting kind of stir-crazy, just getting out of the house when something's wrong," the timer goes off, which results in Vic making a sort of low buzzing noise. Cliff takes the iron off and tries not to laugh. Vic pulls back the dish rag. "Hey, looks pretty good." The wax has sealed it over, so it’s shiny and dappled. The leather is a little damaged around the edges though, like the iron had been too hot. Cliff doesn't mind. They repeat the process with the sleeve turned inside-out to finish the seal. 

"Thanks Vic," Cliff says as he slides his jacket back on. 

"Yeah, no problem," Vic pats him on the back. "Glad to help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was wrong


	3. Chapter 3

The next time Cliff and Larry spend the night together, Cliff completely chickens out of bringing the strap on. Instead, the two of them rut together in Larry’s too-small bed. Larry cums with a shout with Cliff’s thigh between his legs.  
“Fuck,” he huffs. It’s hard to breathe behind the bandages at times. Cliff hums and pets his hand down Larry’s back. “Wanna get you off.” Larry sighs. He presses his forehead to the center of Cliff’s bare chest. 

“Wish you could,” Cliff chuckles. “Been feeling so pent up lately.” Probably because the two of them had been doing this a little more often. Every few weeks had turned into once or twice a week, and that had turned into every few nights. Most times Cliff would rap on Larry’s door and they’d have some sort of perfunctory conversation about what Cliff wanted. That night Larry had wandered into Cliff’s room and wrapped his arms around him. 

“Want you,” he’d whispered, and Cliff had melted. 

In the present, Larry laments. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Cliff says genuinely. “You know what’s actually been helping is training with Vic.” He laughed again. Victor had insisted on getting the team “combat ready”. Mostly that had entailed teaching Cliff proper fighting form and getting suplexed by Hammerhead. 

“You’re taking your sexual frustrations out on Vic?” Larry looks up at him.

“Okay, well, when you put it like that,” Cliff makes a disgusted noise. Larry laughs. He falls asleep curled against Cliff’s chest. 

*

_Dear Dr. Godwin_

Larry types those three words and then erases them six or seven times.

_Dear Dr. Godwin,  
My partner Cliff and I_

He erase that whole thing and then retypes it twice. 

_Dear Dr. Godwin,  
I'm writing you because I am curious about_

Larry sighs. The Spirit sparks blue in his chest. _Keep going_ it seems to say. 

_Dear Dr. Godwin,  
I am writing to you because my partner and I are having some trouble in the bedroom. _

He put his hand on the delete button and feels the warmth of electricity in his chest. "Okay, okay," he sighs again.

_Dear Dr. Godwin,_

_I am writing to you because my partner and I are having some trouble in the bedroom. Which, I suppose is what the majority of your clients contact you about!_

She’s a sex therapist, after all... it feels strange calling Cliff his partner, but it’s more succinct than 'friend with benefits for whom I would kill and die.'

_My partner, Cliff, has_

A condition? Yeah, sure, a condition.

_My partner, Cliff has a condition wherein he cannot feel sensation. I myself have extensive_

That’s putting it lightly.

_I myself have extensive scarring, and so have a hard time_

No.

_A difficult time feeling some sensations. I read on your website that you specialize in helping those with disabilities_

Helping... them... there has to be a better way to say this than 'helping them fuck'.

_I read on your website that you specialize in helping those with disabilities find satisfaction in the bedroom,_

Better.

_and so I was wondering if there was anything you could do for us._

_Thank you,_  
_Cpt. Larry Trainor_

He closes his eyes and hits send.

Almost exactly 24 hours later, Larry gets a reply while his email is logged in on the house laptop. Which means Jane had seen it, and possibly who it was from. She tells him he has an email, but doesn’t press further. Somehow, that’s worse than if she’d just started mocking him outright. 

_Cpt. Trainor,_

_Thank you for contacting me! I'm always so glad when potential clients get in touch, it means you're really ready to improve your situation._

_As for your question, I'd need to meet with you and Cliff in person to give make specific judgements, and it may help to have access to any medical history pertaining to your conditions. What I can say here is that it is completely possible for people without sensation, or with lessoned sensation to have a satisfying sex life. If you are interested in having a preliminary session, you can contact my assistant at the number below. Please know there is no charge for these preliminary sessions._

_Have lovely day,_  
_Dr. Kaitlyn Godwin_

Well, that probably means he should tell Cliff about it.

*

“A what therapist?” Cliff asks. The two of them are in the greenhouse. Cliff is helping him repot the gardenias. 

“Sex therapist,” Larry says, still a little embarrassed to say it out loud. But damn it, he is a grown-ass man, he could have a conversation about bedroom stuff with his lover! _Bedroom stuff_ , fuck’s sake! About _sex_ , they’re talking about sex. “I found her online. She specializes in… folks like us.” He gestures between them with the garden trowel. 

“Complete frickin’ weirdos?” Cliff tilts his head to one side. 

“Sort of,” Larry shrugs. “I talked to her, and she said she might be able to find a solution to our um… problem.” 

“Our problem,” Cliff says thoughtfully. At first Larry thinks he’s mulling over Larry’s use of ‘our’. Well, it is _their_ problem, in’t it? Theirs together. “You really um… you really don’t like it, do you? That I can’t get off.”

“No, I don’t like it,” Larry shakes his head. He sit backs on his haunches where he’s kneeling in the dirt. “I want—it feel so selfish, me _using_ you to get off when you can’t.”

“I don’t feel used,” Cliff shrugs.

“How do you feel?” Larry doesn’t usually open up this way, let alone ask others to. But if the two of them were going to do… whatever this is… then they needed to communicate. Not being honest with his partner had ended like shit the first time.

Cliff takes a moment to think. “Well… I like what we have. And… yeah, it does kinda suck that I can’t cum.” He looks down at his hands. “Guess there’s no harm in going to see this doctor, right?”

“It can only help,” Larry says, and he believes it.


	4. Chapter 4

Cliff doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He keeps looking around the waiting room, trying to find something to concentrate on. The news is on, there’s a painting of some trees, a table full of magazines, but he can’t focus on any of it. The woman at the front desk was clacking loudly on her keyboard, but she kept looking up at the two of them. Cliff kind of wanted to flip her off, if only to have something to do. For the time being though, he settled for drumming his fingers against his knees. Larry reached over and put his hand over Cliff’s. He looks at him. 

“You okay, Cliff?” He asks, tilting his head in a way that sort of communicated a smile. 

“Yeah.” Cliff nods, then shakes his head. “I’m just nervous.”

“You wanna go?” 

Cliff looks at him for a long time. “You tryna make me give you an excuse to chicken out?”

“Yes,” Larry says completely serious. Cliff sits back, trying to get a little more comfortable in a plastic-upholstered chair that's too small for him.

“Well too bad,” he says. Larry sighs dramatically and Cliff pats his hand. “We’re committed now.” To the appointment, Cliff means, not to each other. He doesn’t say anything else. 

A few moments later a door on the other end of the room swings open and a charming voice says, “Larry and Cliff?” 

The two of them get up a little too quickly. They bump into each other awkwardly in an attempt to turn around and head toward the door. The woman at the desk stares as they do, visibly more freaked out by every passing second. The woman at the door, however, is standing patiently and smiling at them. Dr. Kaitlyn Godwin is a tall, broad-shouldered woman with shiny, straight blonde hair and warm brown skin. She’s wearing a sleeveless turtleneck and high-waisted pants that make her look even taller. 

“Morning,” she says as they approached. “How are you two doing today?” Cliff and Larry murmur that they’re fine and follow her through the door and down a short hallway to her office. It’s a cozy room with pink walls and light wood paneling. Dr. Godwin gestures for them to sit on the light green couch, which is piled with throw pillows. She has a seat on a comfortable-looking office chair and grabs a clipboard from a nearby table.

“Now, I understand that you two are here for a consultation.” She clicked her pen. “Do you think we can start out by telling me a little bit about your relationship?”

“Uh, well,” Larry clears his throat. 

“We’re roommates,” Cliff says abruptly. “And friends—Larry’s one of my best friends. And, uh… we,” he gestures vaguely. 

“We have a sexual relationship,” Larry says. He doesn’t even know if he still can blush, really, but he feels his face heating up. 

“Mmhm,” Dr. Godwin nods and writes something on her clipboard. “Larry, you mentioned in your email that you have reduced sensation?”

“Yes… I, uh… I’ve got third and fourth degree burns over most of my body,” he explained. Dr. Godwin’s eyes widen for a moment, but she stays composed. “And Cliff,” he turns to him.

“I can’t feel anything,” Cliff says mournfully. 

“I’ve had clients with similar conditions,” Dr. Godwin says. “Peripheral neuropathy is actually one of the most common reasons for seeking treatment with me.” 

“Perph—what?” Cliff tilts his head to the side.

“Peripheral Neuropathy,” Dr. Godwin repeats. “It’s a numbing of the nerve endings, most commonly resulting in a loss of the sense of touch. I’m guessing your…” she thinks for a moment. “Your _prosthesis_ is what inhibits that for you?”

“Yeah,” Cliff nods. “Got nothing in this hunk a’ junk. Can’t taste or smell anything either.” Dr. Godwin hums and crosses something about on her clipboard. 

“That’s mostly why we’re here,” Larry explains. “Our relationship is sort of... asymmetrical.” 

“Well I wouldn’t say that.” Cliff turns to him, takes his hand. “I like what we’ve got going. Sure, I don’t uh…” he glances at the doctor. She’s watching them patiently. “I don’t reach orgasm or whatever, but I like watching you get off, Lar.”

“I know you do,” Larry put his other hand over Cliff’s. It was surprisingly easy to just _talk_ in front of the doctor. Larry supposed that was part of her job, creating an environment in which the two of them were comfortable to discuss these things. “But I want you to feel good, Cliff. I’m… so grateful to you… _for_ you. I…”

“You don’t have to pay me back Lar.” Cliff shakes his head. 

“But I want to.” Larry sighs. 

“If I could interject,” Dr. Godwin says gently. The two of them turn to her. “Have you tried getting Cliff to orgasm before?”

“A few times,” Larry says. “You said you were close the other night.” He squeezes Cliff’s hand. 

“Sort of,” Cliff shrugs. “It’s hard to tell what’s real sensation and what what’s, uh, force of habit.”

“What if I told you they’re largely the same thing?” Dr. Godwin smiled warmly. “If you begin to feel the way you felt when you had sex before your prosthesis, it’s because you’re experiencing familiar sensations. Are there any routines you’ve employed together that you enjoyed before?”

“Uh, yeah,” Cliff says enthusiastically. “I like it when my partner talks to me, and Larry’s pretty good at it.” Larry scoffs at that. “You think I could really get off on just that?”

“Well it would take some effort on your part as well. You have to be open to the idea that you _can_ still orgasm in your current state, and you have to do the things you did during sex before your prosthesis, like caressing or touching.”

“But I can’t fell any of it.” 

“But you’ll be feed your brain familiar information. Are you familiar with Pavlov?” She adjusts in her chair and crosses her legs. Cliff shakes his head.

“That’s the guy with the dog and the bell,” Larry says. “He trained the dog so it would drool every time he rang the bell.”

“Exactly. People can be conditioned to get into certain frames of mind—say a woman is with a man, and every time she performed fellatio on him, she put her long hair up in a ponytail. It might happen that every time she put her hair up in front of him, the man would get an erection.”

“Oh, I get it,” Cliff nods. “If I train my brain to feel all sexy while I’m with Larry, it’ll be easier to actually get off.”

“Right,” she nods. “And the best part is, you’ve actually done a lot of the training already just by getting to know yourself and what you find arousing. Those things don’t have to change because your body has changed. Right now, it sounds like you’re working against your prosthesis, thinking or it like something outside of yourself. But it’s a part of you now, and it need not be a hindrance to your sex life. You just need to figure out a way to work within your new circumstances."

"It's hard to believe it's possible, I guess," Cliff says sullenly. 

"Of course it's possible," Larry leans against him a little, wanting to be affectionate. "We can do this Cliff."

"Absolutely." Dr. Godwin nods. "Orgasm takes place in the brain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe that line from Kate in the Builders' arc isn't as iconic as I think it is but NO MATTER


	5. Chapter 5

Larry wants to fuck standing again. Cliff has his suspicions that Larry still isn’t comfortable with being seen without the bandages, but he doesn’t mention it. Wall sex is hot. When he arrives at Larry’s room, his lover is already half-undressed, coat and pants off, bandages piled around the bed. His face is still wrapped, but his hands are bare. Cliff holds them in his, brings his fingers up to his lips to press kisses against his knuckles. 

“Cliff,” Larry sighs and throws his arms around Cliff’s neck. “Fuck, I’m so ready for this,” he says, kissing Cliff breathlessly. 

“Yeah, me too,” Cliff holds him close. 

“I prepped already.”

“Oh,” Cliff is a little disappointed. He knows he can’t really finger Larry, what with the hard edges and sizes of his fingers. “Kinda wanted to watch you.”

“Sorry,” Larry breathes again, and kisses the side of Cliff’s head. “Next time.” He steps back a little and reaches back behind his head. Cliff is… he’s excited. He’s never seen Larry’s face. He knows he’s going to love whatever’s beneath those bandages, but he still can’t wait to see. 

Larry pulls strips away until his neck is revealed. Cliff wants to touch, stroke, kiss. Then his chin is bared, and Cliff nearly leans in. His lips, oh god, Larry’s lips. Cliff never thought he would miss his own mouth like this. He longs for the ability to kiss Larry quietly. 

“Lar,” he breathes. Larry pauses, lets his hands falls away from his face. “Oh, don’t stop.” cliff shakes his head.

“I um,” Larry licks his lips. “I’m sorry, I.” He looks away for a moment and Cliff understands. This is as far as Larry can go right now. Cliff nods.

“Okay. Can you help me with this thing?” He steps reluctantly away from Larry and takes the harness out of its bag. He underdresses while Larry takes the various components out of their packaging. He laughs at the color of the dildo. 

The strap-on takes some fiddling to get on. The instructions aren’t clear if they should clip the extender on before or after Cliff has it on. After a few tries, Cliff is standing with a bright purple cock between his legs. 

“Okay,” Larry breathes. He seems excited. Him being excited makes Cliff excited. Larry steps forward and wraps his arms around Cliff’s waist. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

Cliff decides to be honest. He really, really wants a blow job. He’ll fuck Larry against whatever surface he wants, but first he wants to watch his lover wrap his lips around his cock. 

“Sit down for me,” Larry presses his mouth against Cliff’s jaw. Cliff settles into Larry’s chair, where his coat is draped. He thinks it would smell like Larry, like the whole room would. He aches to know what that smell is. 

Larry settles onto his knees between his legs and Cliff finds it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

“Oh, Lar,” he pets a hand down the side of Larry’s head. “You look so good.” Larry licks a thick stripe up the length of the dildo and wraps his lips around the tip. Almost on instinct Cliff bucks his hips shallowly. Larry presses too far forward at the same time and chokes. He pulls off with a wet pop.

“You okay?” Cliff asks.

Larry coughs. “Yeah,” he sounds hoarse. “I’m a little rusty.”

“You and me both pal,” Cliff chuckled. He cupped the side of Larry’s face again. “But um, listen… that was… this is so good.”

Larry smiled. “Yeah?” He pressed his lips against the bright purple silicon again. “You want me to keep going?”

“Please,” Cliff whispered. Larry bobs his head down again, adjusting to take as much of the dildo into his mouth as possible. Larry moans loudly around the plastic and Cliff moans back. 

“Fuck, baby,” he pants. “Fuck, you look so pretty with your lips around my cock. Your mouth’s so good.” Larry looks up at him and Cliff knows, he _knows_ he can cum like this. He thrusts shallowly into Larry’s mouth and groans again. “Yeah, yeah, just like that.”

Some distance away, somewhere on the grounds, there is the sound of an impact. The house shakes a little. Larry looks up at the ceiling, mouth still full of cock. Cliff looks around the room, hand still on Larry’s head. 

“Maybe it’s nothing,” he says, hoping against hope. There’s a noise like something cracking open. The house shakes again. “Maybe it’ll sort itself out.” A bright light comes in through Larry’s too-small windows. “Maybe—” There’s a banging on the door. 

“Larry!” Vic is on the other side. “Shake a leg, man. Something just crash-landed out back!” 

“Fuuuuuuck,” Cliff practically collapses into the chair. Larry pulls his lips off Cliff’s cock, wipes his mouth with the back his head. 

“Next time, sweetheart,” he says and stands, already reaching for his bandages again.


	6. Chapter 6

Next time comes about a week later when the whole meteorite mess has been sorted out. Turns out some folks had just needed directions, and then a place to stay while they repaired their rock-ship-thing. Cliff thinks it’s cool that they’d gotten to meet aliens. And it had been a nice distraction from the tension brewing between him and Larry.

It’s late at night when Larry creeps into Cliff’s room, finding him bent over his work bench. He’s trying to touch up a little gas station pump. The red paint had faded, and he’s better at doing logos now, so he might as well replace the lopsided one that was there not. Larry stands behind him and wraps his arms around his shoulders.

“I wanna finish this,” Cliff says quietly.

“Okay,” Larry said and nuzzles his face against the top of Cliff’s head. He stands there patiently while Cliff works for another twenty minutes or so. They chat a little, about the diorama and their recently departed houseguests. Larry reaches down and strokes his hand across Cliff’s chest. Cliff is only aware of it because he can see Larry’s hands in his periphery while he’s working. 

“Been thinking about you all week,” Larry whispers. 

“Been thinking about you too,” Cliff chuckles. “You wanna try standing again?”

“Nah. Wanna hold you.”

“Well, I could hold you up against the wall. I’m real strong,” he put his brush in a mug of water and sets the gas pump under the lamp to dry. 

“You think?” Larry’s voice is low and sultry when he says that. Cliff stands up slowly and takes Larry in his arms. Larry makes a noise in the back of his throat when he’s lifted into the air, but doesn’t protest as Cliff carries him to his room. Jane catches sight of them as they cross the hallway and shouts at them to use protection. 

Larry shed layer after layer of cloth. Cliff watches enraptured. Eventually Larry’s standing nude except for a set of old-fashioned long underwear. That must be convenient, Cliff thinks. That way he doesn’t have to wrap all the way up and down his arms and legs. Larry looks up at him nervously.

“You’re so pretty,” Cliff says quietly. He reaches forward gingerly, taking the buttons between his fingers. Larry shakes his head sheepishly. “You are, you’re gorgeous, Lar.” He unbuttons garment slowly, revealing more and more of Larry’s mottled skin. Cliff doesn’t remember that last time he was _in awe_. He kneels in front of Larry as the other man lets the undergarment fall off his shoulders. It pools around his ankles and Cliff is met with Larry’s half-hard cock. He wants to badly to take it into his mouth. As it stands, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing down here. 

“Cliff,” Larry breathes, placing his hands on Cliff’s shoulders.

“Sorry,” Cliff says. “I, uh, I’m trying to get into my old routines, you know? I used to love going down on people. But I guess I’ve never sucked a cock before.” Gingerly, he wraps his hand around Larry’s cock. 

“Don’t apologize,” he makes a choked-off noise. He bucks a little into Cliff’s hand. He knows the doctor told him not to think of his body as a limitation, but there are some things Cliff just _can’t_ do. He doesn’t want to pinch any skin between the joints of his fingers. Actually _hurting_ Larry during sex is the Nightmare Scenario. So, he just holds himself there and lets Larry fuck his fist. 

It’s nice, actually… Larry is gasping and moaning quietly, and his cock is leaking pre. Cliff imagines, if he had a tongue, he put his mouth right where his hand ends and lick some of it up. Fuck, he wants to know how Larry tastes. 

“Fuck,” Larry pulls away from him with a sigh and Cliff took up at him, a little disappointed. “Need you.” He pads over to his bedside table and practically throws the drawer open. 

“Okay,” Cliff says under his breath. He shuffles over to the bed, still on his knees, and Larry sits down, legs spread. He watches while Larry preps himself, sliding one thin finger after another into his ass. Larry gasps and moans, curling his fingers to massage his prostate. His legs twitch and Cliff reaches up to hold one of his calves, not so much to keep him still as to remind Larry that he’s there. 

“Fuck,” Larry sighs and takes his hand away. “Cliff, take me, please.” Cliff groans and lurches to his feet. His instinct is to lean over Larry and kiss him, so he does, gingerly. He thinks maybe the hard edge of his jaw will cut Larry if he presses too hard. Larry answers with feverish kisses, making tiny noises in the back of his throat. 

Cliff’s next instinct is to reach between his legs and line himself up with Larry’s entrance. “Oh damnit,” he grunts. “Gotta get the fuckin’ harness on.” He shuffles over to the chair where his dick has sat in its box for the past week. Larry laughs, full-bellies and loud and it’s the best sound Cliff’s ever heard.

He wiggles into the harness and Larry walks over to the wall, leaning against in a way that’s probably not meant to be seductive. Cliff’s way too turned on to think it’s anything else, though, fuck. 

Larry wraps his arms around Cliff’s neck, and then one leg around his hip. Cliff hefts him up and maneuvers so he can watch the toy slide into Larry, who lets out a long keening sound. 

“God, John.” 

There is a pause. Cliff doesn't move. For a moment, Larry remains lost in the ecstasy. Then his eyes widen and his face falls. He looks at Cliff. 

"Cliff, baby, I'm so sorry," he can feel tears threatening behind his eyes. Fuck, fuck, no. Why does he always have to screw everything up?

"Uh," Cliff isn't looking at him. "That was... that was, like, habit, right?"

"What?"

"Like... the last time you did this, it was with... with John?" Larry's talked about him once or twice since therapy. Cliff had gone into this thing knowing he was still a little bit in love with John Bowers. He'd been cool with it. But... "You don't, um, think about him while you're with me, do you?"

"Cliff," Larry shakes his head.

"Cause I, I don't," he pulls out of Larry slowly, and lowers him down to the floor. "I don't wanna be that for you. Just a shell you can plug whatever face into." He still isn't looking at him. Larry takes his face in both his hands, leans his head down so their foreheads touch.

"Cliff, I promise you... when I'm with you, I'm _here_ with you. I... don't know where that came from. Maybe you're right, the last time anyone was inside it me it was John," it feels weird to phrase it like that. "But I _want_ to be with _you_." He licks his lips, presses a kiss to Cliff's jaw. And then another, and another. He murmurs. "Want you, want you, wanna be with you."

"Okay," Cliff says almost too quiet for him to hear. 

And then Larry's back up against the wall, Cliff hips grinding into his. Their erections press together against Larry's belly and he moans loud.

"Yes," he chokes out. "Cliff, Cliff," he tries to grind back but Cliff's hips are too heavy, his form pressed too close. The hard metal of Cliff's torso is hard and unforgiving and beautiful. 

"Yeah?" Cliff presses his mouth to Larry's ear. Larry feels an ache deep in his chest. He wants so desperately in that moment to feel Cliff's breath against his skin. "You like that, baby?" He punctuates his sentence with a practically _vicious_ roll of his hips. "Tell me about it."

Larry gasps. "Cliff, baby, I need you so bad." He puts his hands on Cliff's hips. "Want these hips pounding into, me please." There's a lot to be frustrated about with Cliff's body, but Larry maintains that the sheer weight of it is perfect. "So good to me, want you inside me. Want you to fuck me senseless, sweetheart, please." 

Cliff groans and reaches down to grab at both Larry's legs. He hoists Larry up and hilts himself in one swift motion. 

"Fuck you senseless huh?" Cliff rasps. He can actually feel his throat getting hoarse from lust. He has to write to Dr. Godwin later, tell her she really knows what she’s talking about. For now, he lets himself get lost in the sound and sights of Larry falling apart in his arms. 

"I," Larry breathes. "Fuck." He leans his head back against the wall. 

"If you insist," Cliff chuckles and then snaps his hips forward so hard it practically knocks Larry's breath out of his chest. 

He groans loudly. "More, baby, please."

Cliff set a brutal pace, pounding Larry into the wall and relishing in the sound of him moaning and chanting his name.

"Cliff, Cliff, please don't stop," Larry pants. "I'm so fucking close already, fuck. You're so good to me." He wraps his arms around Cliff again, clinging to him so Cliff wasn't so much fucking him against the wall as he was holding hin up and fucking up into him. Cliff had never been impressively strong, and the idea that he could hold Larry up and take him like this without so much as straining... it's almost embarrassing how much that ego boost turns him on. 

"Cliff, oh god," Larry holds him a little tighter. "Cliff I," he makes a choked-off noise.

"Look at me when you cum baby," Cliff takes a galf step away from the wall so he's still completely supporting Larry when he leans back to make eye contact with him. 

"God, Cliff you're so good to me." Larry keens. Cliff snaps his hips forward once, twice more and Larry cries out as he spills across both their stomachs. Cliff stops, buried inside of Larry, and lets the other man catch his breath. He listens to the sound of Larry's panting and tiny moans as he comes down from his orgasm. Heh. He did that. Cliff moans low in his throat.

"Fuck, Lar, I'm close." 

"Cum for me baby," Larry whispers, moving his hips against Cliff's. Cliff steps away from the wall again and walks the two of them over to the bed. Larry cries out again when Cliff deposits him on the bed, his legs falling open so Cliff slides even deeper inside of him.

"Wanna see you," Cliff murmurs, sliding a down Larry's torso. Larry looks up at him with his mouth hanging open, chest still heaving. Cliff rolls his hips into him slowly and watches as his eyes flutter shut. He arches his back and moans low in his throat.

"You feel so good," he says. "I love the way you feel, your hands, your hips... Cliff I never want this to stop."

"Heh, that's one great thing about the plastic dick I guess," Cliff sayals quietly. "I can fuck you for as long as you want." Larry keens, his hands sliding up along Cliff's arms. It's like he's mapping every seam and rivet with his fingers. "Would you like that, baby? Just lay in this bed for days, letting me take you," he snaps his hips forward. "And take you, and take you?" 

Larry moans and opens his eyes, mouth hanging open. "Cliff..."

"I think I'd like that. Take a weekend, let you be my whole world." He's rolling his hips again, nice and gentle. Fuck, he can see the way Larry's cock jumps against his stomach. He brushes his knuckles against it and Larry hisses. "You getting hard for me again, baby? Gonna come for me?" He buries himself to the hilt and moves his hips in a lazy circle. He knows he's pressed right up against Larry's prostate. "I'm gonna cum for you." It doesn't feel frantic like it usually did before, like he needs to chase down his release. Instead he lets it build while he fucks into Larry slow, while he keeps weaving this fantasy about marathon fucking him into oblivion. While he watches Larry get hard and again, and hears his raspy moans. 

"I'd have to sleep sometime," Larry says, his lips pulling up into the ghost of a smile. "You'd keep fucking me? Be here when I wake up? Still spreading me open on your cock?" Larry's breathless while he says it. "I... I'd love that actually," he almost laughs, like he's surprised himself. "Fuck, take care of me while I'm out, be here when I come back. Be inside me," he pants. "I trust you." It's schmoopy, and a little dramatic, but that's what pushes Cliff over the edge. It feels different, no balls tightening up or cock pulsing, but it's still good. Intense. His body shakes, he moans out Larry's name. Larry cups his face in his hands, smiling up at him while Cliff comes down. He's panting even though he doesn't breathe. He doesn't question it. He shouldn't. He should just let his body be, just let himself exist in it. He takes a deep breath and sighs. Larry asks him to stay the night and he doesn't question that either. Just lets himself have it.


End file.
